


Not Alone

by ShoyDragon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Gen, Gift Fic, I Believe in Sherlock Holmes, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:39:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShoyDragon/pseuds/ShoyDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which John Watson finds support from an unexpected source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alexysmichele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexysmichele/gifts).



> So I wrote another drabble for Alex, and once again she has given me permission to share. This one was fun, if a little challenging, and I hope against hope that kept everyone in character! This has been edited a bit from the version I sent Alex, but if you see anything I missed, let me know.

Life after Sherlock was strange for John. The first few weeks were filled with constant questions, members of the press following him to work and to Tesco’s in hopes of getting an exclusive from the person closest to the “fake detective.” They were persistent in their quest to know exactly how Sherlock had duped his “best friend,” and John found himself staying indoors as much as possible, ignoring his phone and avoiding any source of news.

It took almost four weeks, but eventually the press moved on and speculations about Sherlock were replaced with stories about the Queen’s flotilla and the upcoming Olympic Games. By August, Sherlock’s name could only be found on the back pages of the trashiest tabloids and John could limp through London without being harassed every few feet. In some ways it was a relief to just be part of the crowd again, but no matter how hard he tried to blend in, John knew he would never be able to move on from Sherlock’s death like the rest of the world had. Celebrating Queen and country (quite literally) was hard to do when he was waiting for Sherlock to cut in with random observations about that float-builder’s obvious embezzlement tendencies or which athlete had been sleeping with their trainer.

August faded into September, and as the days grew colder John found himself noticing things about the people around him that he never would have seen before he met Sherlock. It was a painful reminder of how much the detective had changed his life, but John couldn’t help but relish in it all the same. He started going on walks every morning to see what he could deduce about the early commuters, and would invent entire life-stories for them, filling in the blanks he couldn’t figure out from looking with random things he knew Sherlock would scoff at. 

One late September morning found John in Regent’s Park, deciding the peanut vendor must be a fan of Doctor Who (‘ _Honestly, John, how can you possibly know that based on what he’s_ wearing _?_ ’) when he was interrupted by a timid voice.

“Um, excuse me..?”

John turned; a young woman with wavy blonde hair was smiling at him anxiously, clutching a smartphone in one hand and the strap of her bag in the other.

‘ _American,_ ’ provided the voice in John’s head that sounded like Sherlock, ‘ _late teens, early twenties. University student. Most likely in London for a study abroad program. Bag contains at least one notebook and several blank postcards, recently purchased. She has a map of London open on her mobile. She’s lost, probably looking for the nearest tube station or the fastest route to Piccadilly Circus._ ’

John inclined his head to indicate he was listening and shot the young woman what he hoped was a comforting smile.

“Can you tell me how to get to Baker Street? I know it’s close-by, I just can’t figure out which direction I need to go.”

John nodded politely as his inner-Sherlock voiced a few more observations. ‘ _Accent indicates she’s from the north-eastern part of the States; not quite New English, most likely she originated from Michigan or Wisconsin. Has a small amount of familiarity with London; studied a bit before arriving. She’s smart._ ’

“That one is Baker Street,” John said, pointing. “If you’re looking for the tube, the station’s just down there.”

The young woman smiled. “I don’t need the tube just yet, but thank you.” She glanced down at her phone as if to reorient herself. “Which way would I need to go if I was looking for 221?”

John’s heart lurched and adrenaline flooded his system. Was this girl looking for 221 because she was looking for him? She didn’t look like a journalist, but what other reason would she have for trying to find his old flat? Had stories of Sherlock Holmes actually reached the States? Did she hope to find an angle on Sherlock’s fall from grace that no one else had managed - the John Watson story? Did she recognize him? “221, you say?” John asked, trying and failing to keep the defensive edge out of his voice. “Trying to see if the stories about Sherlock Holmes are true?”

Blushing, the girl flinched slightly and looked away. “No, I… I just wanted to drop something off. I… My friends and I wanted to give Doctor Watson something… He’s… he’s been through a lot and we wanted him to know he has our support.” She straightened up, meeting John’s gaze. “He hasn’t updated his blog since… well, since June, and we want him to know he’s not alone. We… I believe in Sherlock Holmes.” She sounded confident, her voice loosing it’s anxious edge, and she looked at John as if challenging him to argue with her. “I don’t think Sherlock was a fake and I don’t think Doctor Watson is crazy to still believe in him, and I want him to know he’s not alone. There’s no way anyone could’ve invented someone like Moriarty, and my friends and I want to be sure that Doctor Watson knows we still believe in him.”

John stared, speechless. This young woman supported him? She and her friends believed in Sherlock? But how could they possibly know enough to believe anything but Moriarty’s lies? She was American; how did they even know about Sherlock? And she knew about his blog? Did John have an even bigger following than he had realized?

“Y-you follow the blog?” he managed to choke out. “But you’re from the States. How do you even know about Sherlock?”

“The internet is a wonderful thing,” the girl replied mysteriously. “You can read about anything happening anywhere in the world. My friend Devin sent me the link to Doctor Watson’s blog and I’ve been following it ever since.” Her expression turned wistful. “That’s why we still believe in Sherlock; Doctor Watson wrote about him with such admiration and exasperation… You can’t fake a friendship like that.”

“No one can fake being an arrogant dick all the time,” John mumbled in agreement.

“Yes, exactly!” the young woman exclaimed, smiling brightly. “So that’s why I want to find 221 Baker Street. I have a few letters that my friends and I wrote to show Doctor Watson our support.”

Feeling numb, John gave her directions to the flat and stared after her as she hurried away, still beaming. When he returned to 221 later there was an envelope shoved through the mail slot full of letters from a surprisingly large collection of people. There was a note on the top of the stack that read:

__Doctor Watson -  
We just wanted you to know that you are not alone. We may have never met him, be we all still believe that Sherlock Holmes was as great as you say he was, and will keep believing it until the end.  
\- Alex 

Later that evening, John sat at his desk, re-reading his first blog entry since the day Sherlock fell. He felt a surge of anxiety as he clicked submit and closed his laptop. In the morning he would check to see if he got any responces, but for now he was content to re-read the letters from Alex and her friends, and bask in the knowledge that he was not alone.  


_21st September_

> To those who still believe, thank you.


End file.
